Ork Invasion
by Pepe Shadilay
Summary: Written as flavour text for a game - got a bit out of hand. It's got Orks in it. They do that.


Ragsnagga was not happy, even for an Ork.

He often quite enjoyed the challenge of keeping Da Red Smakka operational and dangerous, but he was starting to suspect that this time he was nutting a Gargant.

It really hadn't helped, dropping out of Warp like that with only about a quarter of the ship that had gone in. Da Red Smakka had never been the sort of Kozmik Kroozer he'd always dreamed of piloting, but at least it'd worked. Eventually. He'd buried himself inside flailing machinery and heaved on levers, and burned every limb to the bone at least twice. But he'd always been able to make it work just well enough. He'd broken several spannaz. He idly shifted the one he was holding now and scratched the top of his head with one of the sharper tools welded to the end. He carried it into battle with him, and few understood his fearsome battlecry of "3/8ths!" until they found him twisting their head off with precisely that tool.

No. He hated to admit defeat, but you couldn't punch vacuum. This wasn't going to yield to a spanna and some choice curse words.

He'd stopped the Hot Fing from going boom, but it was temporary as zog. Best tell the Kaptain.

The Kaptain was one compartment down, staring intently at a cracked screen.

"Kaptain!"

"Tell!"

"Ship zogged!" Ragsnagga leaned his spanna against a wall to hold up both hands, He needed five fingers for this. He held them up. "Ship." He removed one hand and lowered one finger on the other leaving a lone digit. "Now ship."

"Where?"

"Warp."

Kaptain Skallion simply nodded sourly.

"Say good."

Ragsnagga raced to think. "Weapons. Air. Hot Fing not go boom. Soon. Maybe very soon. Got some Noob Boyz just cracked cocoon. Some of da Boyz left bits behind when Bigdoorz went slam, so we can 'ave a snakk if yer 'ungry." He smiled. "Long as it dun't tek too long t'cook."

The Kaptain's finger tapped the small screen.

"Squeaker."

Ragsnagga leaned forward, suddenly energised. "Wherebouts?"

He studied the lines and images for a few moments, their meaning seeping through his Mekboy skillz, then his face split into a grin.

"More good! Small world, onna edge of 'umie space. Squeaker is for Stuffships - just squeaking "Over 'ere, mate!" so's 'ey can find it when dey drops outta Warp. Prob'ly a Foodworld."

"Can we get there?"

"Bloody well try! It's not too far, an' we still got some power." Ragsnagga was already running.

The Kaptain studied the flashing images on the emergency beacon for a second before leaving. One hope of victory. All he'd ever needed.

He found the Noob Boyz squaring off with one another, the crushed fungal husks of their cocoons scenting the air of the room.

They all looked up at him, but one had that extra glint in his eye. He'd seen it before, fresh-hatched Noob Boy thinks he's Warlord Bloodrot right out the nest. A single punch flattened the Noob instantly.

"On yer feet, useless fings!" The Kaptain strode over and picked up the dazed Noob by the foot, and lifted him, casually, one-handed. "Dat's dese bits 'ere, you wastes of fungus!" He flipped the Noob upright and handed him a choppa. "Because yer gonna need yer 'ands for dese."

The Noob, still bleary from the smack, and the casual flip, decided not to push his luck. Promotion could wait, for now. Looked like the kaptain were a propa Kaptain.

The Kaptain handed out various edged weaponry to each Noob, but there were only four shootas in the shootabox. Normally the Kaptain would have enjoyed the brief scuffle that would have ensued from such inequality, but quite often, such things ended up with every Ork involved dead or maimed. The universe was doing such a good job of giving them a kicking right now that it didn't seem to Skallion as though it needed any help. He handed them out to the four nearest, and indicated the two gunless ones. "You two - scavenge. You've got 'til the ship blows up!"

They bolted with admirable speed.

When they returned, quite swiftly thereafter, one had acquired a stringy looking piece of Eldar tech, which nobody else had ever fancied using. The other was essentially hidden behind a yellow shoulder-mounted rokkit the size of an ale barrel. In fact, the Kaptain realised, it had been an ale barrel at some point. Some noxious substance was crystallising out on its sides, and the Kaptain was quite sorry he wasn't going to be around to see it go off.

"Right, ladz, into the Krate with you. Dis is how you gets down. Ship's zogged to zog an' back, but I'm gonna try'n drop it on da biggest 'humie place I can find. Dey cleanin' up my mess, dey ain't gon' be lookin' fer youse. If we gets out, we'll find yer!"

The Noob Boyz piled into the bare-metal Krate, which consisted simply of some panels welded shut and a big auto-rokkit at either end. These were supposed to fire just a few seconds before landing, reducing the lethal velocity to something an Ork could not just walk away from, but run, fighting. Failed Krate landings were often sources of entertainment for all Orks not inside the actual Krate, and an ample source of parts for the local Painboyz.

The Kaptain listened for the solid thunk of the steel dogs sliding into place as the Noob Boy nearest the door spun the mechanism. He slammed the BRS that shunted the Krate clear and onto its own trajectory. For the briefest of moments he watched it spiralling away, its little Thrustaz making tiny sparks. As it vanished from sight, he grunted a deep and heartfelt Waaaagh! Six Noob Boyz, maybe the only remaining members of his tribe, to take on a world alone.

Waaaagh! indeed. They were going to need it.

He hop-stepped as fast as his metal leg would let him towards the Hot Fing room, but met Ragsnagga coming the other way.

"Hot Fing gone!" The shockwave pulsed through them as he spoke, the reactor going critical only miles behind them. The ship began to tremble and buck, receiving something it finally recognised as its deathblow. The deck began to swing and pivot as the Downstuff generators began to fail completely. The two Orks climbed, pulled and fought their way through the spiralling ship to the small Kontrol room where the Squeaker was now showing clear and loud on the screen, just off their bow.

"We gotz Thrustaz?" screamed the Kaptain, over the tearing metal noises.

Ragsnagga lifted his spanna, said the fastest prayer to Gork and Mork he'd ever said, and swung with all his might against the main Konsole. He left a huge dent in the side, and a handful of lights flickered on.

"Thrustaz!" he announced.

Kaptain Scallion grabbed the controls and heaved. Slowly, the nose of the shattered hulk began to turn.

As the crippled ship entered the atmosphere of the small blue world, it yawed and pitched across the sky, trailing black cloud soup behind it. The noise within intensified to boiler-shop clangour. Nothing could be heard. The two Orks looked at one another, and their teeth bared in a huge silent Waaaagh! Ragsnagga turned away, and headed for an access panel. The Kaptain was about his business, now it was his turn. It took no time at all to reach the outerskin, there was that little left of the ship now. Going off like a Bomm might be the thing for the Kaptain, but he had another idea. He'd always wanted to fly, and now he was going to get to do it without a Kroozer.

He blew the Bangybolts on the exterior panel, and screwed his eyes up as the wind roar hit him. They weren't that far up, coming in over miles of hills and farmlands. Such luck to hit a Farmworld. A Forgeworld would have had Imperium Cruisers in orbit and they'd have been vaped like any other space debris. Here, they actually had a chance.

He laughed, and let go, his laugh dopplering away as he dropped.

In the cockpit, Kaptain Skallion was laughing too.

"Six Noob Boyz and Ragsnagga da Mekmaster! Look out 'umie world! You is being invaded! Da Orks iz 'ere! If we lands, we wins!"

The ship was a crumbling, tumbling missile now, tons of scrap falling away as it passed. Only Skallion's paws on the controls, and his iron will, kept it headed for the buildings he'd selected as an aiming-point.

In the city, the warning systems had finally picked up the incoming vessel, and several organisations were desparately hailing it, trying to figure out its transponder codes, and wondering just where it was going to land.

Rumour has it the last transmission they received before Da Red Smakka pancaked into the city of Cantatus sounded suspiciously like: "'Ere we go! 'Ere we go! 'Ere we go, throo infinity!"

Meanwhile, a quarter-world away, a single Krate slammed to a high-speed landing and crunched down as the last glare of the rokkits faded. The door burst open and the six Noob Boyz piled out...

Nothing. Nobody around. Well that's just bloody cheating.

Over there! A big fing. Looks sorta fort-y. You know 'ow dem 'umies like to build forts? Like dey's challenging you to see if yer 'ard enough to 'ave a go. Yeah, like dat.

It did indeed look quite forbidding, but what guards were there seemed to be a bit pre-occupied. The Noob Boyz pushed in through the gates, blew through the first locked shutters, and then gleefully, joyfully, spotted some likely looking glints from.. was it...? YES! Power Armour! Dat means Space Marines!

They burst from the corridors surrounding the small makeshift defenses, the Waaaagh! pouring from them as strongly as the dakka they sent towards the Space Marines. Four shots burst coruscating amongst the handful of defenders before the yellow rokkit closed the gap with a zip of flame, and a white light that shook the world.

In the quiet tinkling that followed as the debris finished landing, there were two voices.

"Dat, dat... wuz 'mazin. Right?" This was the Noob Boy who'd fired the rokkit and was now looking hopefully down the barrel of the launcher in the forlorn wish that there might be another one in there somehow.

"Wonder what mine does?" Feeling terribly saddened that everything was dead and obliterated before he'd got a single shot off, the slowest Noob Boy aimed in the general direction of the carnage and pulled the trigger expectantly. He'd hoped for a DeffBlasta. Or a Shokker, or maybe one o'dem Beamy Lasers. What he hadn't expected was for it to fail suddenly and catastrophically, its entire internal workings springing out of the casing and making a noize liek

Zooooiiiiiiiiiiinenegggge

And when they woke up, things were... different.


End file.
